


Reflection

by aramisinaskirt (SilverMillennium_QueenNeptune)



Series: Multi-fandom Kinktober 2020 [3]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Archive Of Our Own Haven For Writers Readers and Fans Facebook Group Monthly Challenge, F/M, Kinktober 2020, Mirror Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:48:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27193342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverMillennium_QueenNeptune/pseuds/aramisinaskirt
Summary: The Musketeers have a mission, but Aramis is distracted by the memory of an encounter with one of Queen Anne's ladies.  Written for Kinktober Day 19: Mirror Sex.
Relationships: Aramis | René d'Herblay & Athos | Comte de la Fère & Porthos du Vallon, Aramis | René d'Herblay/Original Character(s)
Series: Multi-fandom Kinktober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959292
Kudos: 3
Collections: AO3 Haven FB Group Challenges, Annual AO3 Haven October Challenge: Kink Whump Fluff and Gore Bonanza 2020





	Reflection

Porthos grinned happily as he and the other Musketeers mounted their horses. Treville had given them their latest mission, to escort a group of Spanish envoys to meet with the king. D’Artagnan laughed at Porthos’ expression, and then shot a cautious glance to Aramis. He had been strangely silent since they received their orders, and they all knew how difficult it was to quiet him. Athos bowed his head for a moment, attempting to think of the right way to say something. He fell back to meet Porthos, who looked troubled by the lack of conversation. With a shake of his head, Athos guided Porthos away from the third Musketeer, who he did not wish to overhear,

“Athos?”

“Hmm?”, Athos licked his lips. It had been too long of a ride for him to focus on much. He slowed his horse to meet Porthos, ensuring that Aramis was well behind them. D’Artagnan had been asked to stay behind with Captain Treville. Porthos wondered exactly what it was that had caused the request, but perhaps it was better since Aramis was already withdrawing. Glancing back to be sure that Aramis was not catching up, Porthos spoke in a low voice.

“Has Aramis spoken to you?”

“Not once since we left.” Aramis was not one for idle chatter, but it was also not like him to isolate this way. The Musketeers were a brotherhood who confided everything in one another, and it was rare that Aramis kept secrets. Porthos looked crestfallen and concerned. The two men were exceptionally close, and he expected that Aramis might confide in him if something were wrong. Athos cocked his head.

“Not a word to you either, then?”

“No, but you know our Aramis. He’s stubborn.”

“Perhaps he’s thinking of a woman.”

“Or three.” Porthos laughed heartily at his own humor. Though his Musketeer brothers knew him as an honorable man, Aramis was a lover at heart. He rarely slept alone, and if the rumors were to be believed, he often spent his evenings in the company of a woman. The allegations made Athos, who knew Aramis’ dedication to the study of religion, cock an eyebrow in puzzlement and chuckle. Lust was not their friend’s folly. So what was causing him to withdraw? Whether he wanted them to or not, his friends were going to do whatever it took to help him.

“What’s this?”, Athos smirked at Aramis as he suddenly perked up. Had he decided to join the conversation at last and put their doubts to rest? They had obviously found something of intrigue, though what it was Aramis did not know. He was not certain he wanted to know. He simply smiled and kept riding. Athos could see the wheels turning; a part of him was dying to know exactly what it was Aramis was thinking. The look on Porthos’ face told Athos that he wanted to know, too.

_But if we ask, there’s no guarantee Aramis will tell._

“You’re elsewhere today, my friend.”, Athos ventured at last, startling the marksman from his thoughts.

“Am I? My apologies, Athos. I was just— reminiscing.”

“About what?” Aramis gave them a sly look. He did not need to say anything, but he was in a fair mood, and so he let them tease. There was no harm in it, after all. These were his brothers and he was used to their constant bickering. He had learned to ignore it.

“Porthos, please. Some things a gentleman never speaks of, you know this.”. Athos fought a snort. Loathe though he was to admit it, Aramis had dodged the question as artfully as he would a blow from an enemy in combat. Well, at least he was quick about it. Porthos studied him for a moment, trying to hide his lack of surprise. Something had been very different about Aramis lately. Neither of them could quite put their finger on what exactly it was, but they knew that he would open up in his own time.

* * *

Aramis had spent his morning in the company of one of the most beautiful women in France. Jeanne Derosier was one of the Queen’s oldest friends and closest confidantes. She had been rescued from a life tending the royal gardens by a chance conversation. If he concentrated he could still take in the scent of the roses that lingered in Jeanne’s hair.  
  
He still recalled the look on her face as she stared at him in the mirror, how bewildered she had been that he had chosen her. He had pulled her against him, peppering her skin with kisses. He could envision her reflection without trying, dark hair falling over her shoulders, her eyes a thin ring of color, and filled with lust.

“My Jeanne. You are beautiful.” , he whispered, as though her name was his most reverent prayer. Color flooded her cheeks reminding Aramis of the roses in the Queen’s garden. He realized that he had chosen perhaps the finest of those blooms in Jeanne herself.

“Aramis. . . We. . . We can’t. We mustn’t. What if Her Majesty . . .?”

“Her Majesty has more important issues at hand, my darling girl. You and I are the last of her concerns. The Queen, lovely though she may be, is nothing compared to the beauty before me. May I show you?” She nodded, the fear still shining in her eyes as he bent to capture her lips in a moment of passion. He would be gentle and take his time with this innocent maiden, one who he had watched for hours upon hours among the roses although she had never known of his presence. He had dreamed of her; the fair skin that tasted of earth, sweat, dew, and only the faintest hint of floral scent to offer his senses something pleasant.

A simple conversation in the gardens one day as she wept over her family’s debts and a refusal to ask the Queen’s favor had led them here. He hadn’t meant to bring her into his bed, but then, Aramis had always been weakened by the need to help a beautiful woman in distress. He had to remind himself that above all else, Jeanne was a woman first. If he could only ease her pains for an evening it would be worth all of it.

“I will do nothing without your consent. If you refuse me here, the matter is finished, and I shall not ask again unless you give me cause. I am, after all, a man of honor.” He was leaning over her now, only inches from her lips. Jeanne knew that she should move away. The problem was that he would not release her, no matter what she said.

“Aramis—.” The Musketeer was frozen. As he caught her reflection in the glass behind them, he knew there was only one option. He could not have the Queen, that had been decided for him. But perhaps if he allowed himself to open his heart again, this woman could love him as much or more. She was fearful now, casting glances to the door as though she felt she would be swept away if it opened.

“On my life, I will let nothing harm you. But I need your answer. Do you consent, Jeanne? Will you let me adore you? Please?”

“God save me, I adore you beyond all reason, Aramis. Yes, I consent.” Jeanne reached to cup Aramis’ face. How they found the bed, neither could be sure. His fingers fumbled for a moment with the fabric of her dress, too nervous to allow himself to touch her at first until he found his way to her hair. Jeanne could only watch as his warmth caressed her skin, tracing the curve of her waist. She had rarely paid attention to her own appearance. She tried to hide in him, but he would not allow it.

He wanted her to see what he saw; for what was likely the first time in her life, to understand just how beautiful she was. When he tried to say it, she would blush and hide. She had accused him of having a smooth tongue and implied she had reason to be afraid of him. He had laughed at that. Of course, a woman as pious as she was would feel that he might be the closest thing to the Devil himself. This was not the time to make her afraid. Aramis smiled, knowing exactly what she needed.

“May I make one more request of you?” The smile was enough to light her up. Her body shook with the weight of it all. He was here, he was hers and he wanted to love her. It was maddening and reckless. If the Queen knew, there might be hell to pay, but she had no fear as his eyes met hers. All she saw was love and confidence.

“Anything.”

“Look behind you, my love.” There was a grin on his face as she turned and caught sight of them in the glass. In her shock, she tried to pull the bedsheets around her body, but he placed his hand over hers to stop her. He would not let her spend another moment believing that she was not worthy of him.

“I am fortunate to have such a beauty in my arms. I do not intend to stop until you feel the same way I see you.”

“But Aramis, this is madness. T-the mirr—oh . . .” There was no time for her to finish. Though Aramis had wished to be gentle with her, his need had only grown stronger. He lowered his hands, fingers dancing across her skin like flickers in a flame. He would put all her doubts to rest if it took an entire lifetime. She was right, it was madness, but of a different kind.

“Jesus, Mary, and Holy Saint Joseph forgive me. But I cannot control the way you make me feel, and I will not apologize for loving you.” The oath came under Aramis’ breath as he crossed himself quickly and then rolled her underneath him. Her back arched, and Aramis caught a string of soft oaths from her lips telling him just how close she was. But he had no intention of stopping yet. This time his kisses lingered, slower and more fervent and in no way an attempt to hide his desire. Jeanne’s skin prickled with the warmth of him, his fingers moving in and out of her in ways she had never dared to dream. Jealousy flitted through her for a moment as she wondered just how many women he had compromised like this—for that was what her father would say if he knew—and decided that the bliss of him was more important than the answer.

There would be time for the consequences later; for now, all she wanted was to be with him. She had given her consent, so why was he hesitating? She wasn’t enough of a fool to believe this to be a proposal of marriage. Tangling her fingers into his curls, she held him close to her, only to whimper at the sudden absence when his fingers withdrew from her. He hesitated again, and she knew what he was waiting for. It was almost enough to make her laugh.

“I’ve already consented. We’ve gone this far, there’s no way to turn back.”

“Yes, but do you want me to? If you tell me to stop . . .”

“If I tell you to stop, then I have committed the greater sin. I cannot deny a man so clearly in need. You have my consent, Aramis. Finish it. Please.” She kissed him deeply,swallowing her own scream as he thrust into her. He could not help watching the reflection; the pulse of her body as she stretched to make room for him. This was why he had wanted to be able to see her; she was so beautiful, and so entirely his that he wanted the moment seared into his consciousness. Sin though it was, he needed to remember her like this. Even more so, he wanted her to be able to remember herself like this; beautiful, loved, desired. He wanted to relish the moment, but his body was already taxed to its limits. Jeanne muffled another scream in his chest as he came inside her, followed by her own second release. Aramis fell back to the sheets, satisfied; he had given her exactly what she needed.

“Do you know, Jeanne, what the greatest sin is in all of this?”

“That we mustn’t do that again.” She huffed, pretending to be scandalized. “But we shall. Many times, if you’ll allow it.” Aramis choked back a laugh. His innocent maiden was likely still thinking of her father.

“That—and. . .”, Aramis paused for a grin. “That you can’t see yourself from above this way. That would be a stunning view indeed.”


End file.
